


sleepless in baltimore

by buckgaybarnes



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Kaiju, Aquarium Worker Newt, Bickering, Developing Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Professor Hermann, Regional AU, Road Trips, Romantic Comedy, this evolved from Short Silly Thing, to Thing I Am Very Invested In and Will Force Endlessly Upon You All
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-05-18 14:46:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14854781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckgaybarnes/pseuds/buckgaybarnes
Summary: Newt can't flirt normally for shit.(or: the extremely specific Baltimore AU nobody wanted wherein Dr. Newt Geiszler, Head Aquarist, uses his lunch breaks to hit on/argue with that cute physicist Dr. Gottlieb at the Science Center)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so! originally i posted this on my tumblr with [part one here](http://hermannsthumb.tumblr.com/post/174273277018/hermannsthumb-im-writing-an-extremely) and [part two here](http://hermannsthumb.tumblr.com/post/174281170463/hermannsthumb-hermannsthumb-im-writing-an) but i had a lot of fun writing it and people seemed to enjoy it so i'm posting it here as well! also i realized i left out a little bit at the end of part one when i posted it there so remedying it here, as well as some minor edits
> 
> i took some artistic liberties with the structure of planetarium shows but i haven't been to the science center since like high school so cut me some slack, and also this is fanfiction (some realism: the smell of the harbor)
> 
> i will write more for this verse, and definitely...The Date. i just think it's Neat

The first time is entirely a coincidence.

It’s a busy day at the aquarium and Newt’s spent the morning scrubbing down various tanks—more so than normal, since one of the other guys is on vacation this week—and he decides that what he really needs during his lunch break is just a nice walk. It turns out to be a really shitty idea, actually. It’s stiflingly hot and humid today, and the second he steps outside of the nice air-conditioned lobby of the aquarium he’s hit with a wave of the usual dead fish stench of the harbor, except ramped up by a hundred, and suddenly being elbows-deep in fish scum doesn’t seem so bad.

He makes it about ten minutes before he gives up and ducks into the closest public building he sees that doesn't have people trying to sell him things: the Science Center. Newt’s only been once before a few years ago, for some dinosaur exhibit that—disappointingly—ended up being more aimed at children than adults, but the prospect of air conditioning wins out and he pays the entrance fee anyway and decides to just wait out the remaining forty minutes or so in the planetarium. Maybe nap, once he realizes how cool and dark it is in there.

That’s when he meets Dr. Gottlieb.

Well, not quite meets. Becomes aware of.

“Welcome to Black Holes: Journey into the Unknown,” a voice over the loudspeaker says. “My name is Dr. Hermann Gottlieb, and I will be your presenter today.” He sounds pretentious and British (which is surprising) and so professor-like that every single person in the room immediately shuts up, so Newt comes to the obvious conclusion this guy is definitely some form of grumpy old asshole.

He tears his eyes away from the artificial night sky above to confirm his hypothesis, and—well—verdict’s still out on the _grumpy_ and _asshole_ parts of that, but Gottlieb’s not old. Gottlieb’s fairly young, actually. He can’t be much older than Newt, no matter what the sweater vest and glasses on a chain and bad haircut might try to suggest. He’s not exactly textbook attractive, but Newt is intrigued all the same and makes the excellent decision to watch him intently the entire time instead of paying attention to the program.

_Grumpy old asshole_ is quickly revised with _grumpy young asshole_ , to Newt’s sheer delight. Gottlieb doesn’t try to crack half-assed jokes during the presentation, but he does do the classic _I’ll wait for you to finish_ stare-down when whispers in the audience get too loud and directly calls out some middle-aged guy for being rude and talking too much. When he’s done, he does a Q &A, and it turns out he actually knows his shit too; maybe it’s a dick move of Newt to scrape the bottom of his astrophysics-knowledge-barrel to ask increasingly complex questions, and then argue with Gottlieb through his answers until they monopolize the entire session, but Gottlieb turns a wonderful shade of red and his scowl takes up half his face when he thinks he’s being condescended to.

Newt is smitten.

He stops by reception on his way out to snag a planetarium program, but there’s no details on who’s presenting each day under the session names. “Hi,” he says to the desk assistant on duty. “Can you tell me Dr. Gottlieb’s current schedule?”

The assistant shares a look with her co-worker, and they both sigh. They’re both young, college-age. Probably some sort of internship. “Did he yell at someone again?”

“Yeah.” Newt grins. “Me, actually.”

She sighs again and clicks around on her computer for a bit. “He presents Monday to Friday in the summer, starting June,” she says, squinting at the screen. “He’s just Tuesday and Thursday for the rest of May, so he shouldn’t be too hard to avoid for now. I think he’s full-time over at Hopkins at something.”

“He is,” her co-worker pipes up, with an eyeroll. “My friend had him for intro to physics. Hardest class of her life. He just does this for _fun_.”

“Awesome,” Newt says, stealing a pen from their desk and quickly scribbling down his own adjustments to the program. “See you Thursday.”

The second time Newt sees Dr. Gottlieb is not a coincidence. Neither is the third time, which is when Gottlieb finally cracks and calls Newt an idiot. “You must really like black holes,” the same desk assistant says that day, when Newt, beaming, waves goodbye.

The fourth time, the desk assistant slides him a brochure and very pointedly says “You know, we do offer _memberships_ ,” and that’s how Newt ends up dropping a hundred bucks for unrestricted and unlimited access to irritating Hermann Gottlieb for a year

And boy, does he intend to use it.

 

* * *

 

The first chunk of June passes by quickly. The summer rush means that Newt has to continuously cut his lunch breaks short and is only able to attend five out of the nine talks Gottlieb’s given so far that month. It’s incredibly disappointing, especially given that lately Newt’s started hanging back to continue his arguments with Gottlieb alone long after the presentations end—which, quite frankly, is probably why Newt’s fallen so behind on his daily work. He could probably just ask Gottlieb for his phone number like a normal human being, but he derives a certain form of pleasure from being the sole focus of Gottlieb’s irritation. Also, Newt can’t flirt normally for shit.

The first time he sees Gottlieb outside of their usual setting is a Thursday evening at the Aquarium, two hours before closing time. Newt’s wheeling about fifty pounds of jellyfish food down the hall when a very familiar voice hisses “ _You_.”

Newt turns sharply and, lo and behold, there’s Dr. Gottlieb himself, cane in hand and murder in his eyes, screeching to a halt about five feet away. Newt wheels the boxes off to the side of the hallway, wipes his hands on his pants, and closes the gap in a quick bound. “Hermann!” he exclaims with a smile, as Gottlieb takes a purposeful step back. “How are you? What are you doing here?”

“Do _not_ call me by my first name,” Gottlieb snaps. He’s begun slowly and methodically crumpling up his map of the aquarium, possibly unconsciously, and Newt can just tell he wants nothing more than to throw it directly at Newt’s face. “Furthermore, it is not your business what I am doing here. We are not friends. I don’t–I don’t even _know_ you.”

“Newt,” Newt says, refusing to drop the smile, and holds out a hand, “I work here. Now we know each other.”

Gottlieb looks disdainfully at the hand, which is still grimy, and then follows it to linger over Newt’s tattoo sleeves—a colorful medley of jellies, sea turtles, various fish Newt thinks look cool, tentacles, stingrays—instead. He does not accept the handshake. “You work here?”

Newt unclips his National Aquarium badge from his pants to present proudly to Gottlieb. “Sure do, man.”

Gottlieb takes it and examines it suspiciously. “‘Dr. Newton Geiszler,’” he reads, “‘Head Aquarist.’” He thrusts it back at Newt, scowls some more. “A doctor _and_ mildly proficient in your field,” he continues, voice heavy on the sarcasm. “Here I was under the impression you did nothing but harass strangers in local planetariums.”

“Only the ones I think are cute,” Newt says with a wink before he can stop himself. Bad idea? Bad idea. Definitely more creepy than endearing, and Gottlieb is balling the map up tighter and he really _might_ actually throw it in Newt’s face. “And smart,” Newt adds hurriedly. “Cute and smart.”

Gottlieb’s expression is completely indecipherable. “‘Cute,’” he repeats.

“And smart.” Gottlieb is silent, so Newt decides it’s time for his second regrettable decision of the day. May as well just go all in. “So,” he says, “you, uh, want to get dinner some time?”

Gottlieb does not speak for another few seconds. “As long as,” he begins, and then clears his throat and starts again, “as long as you promise to not show up like that.”

Newt looks down at himself and, yeah, maybe Gottlieb has a point. His sleeves are rolled up unevenly, his white shirt is stained with murky water and algae, and he’s pretty sure he smells about as bad as every tank he cleaned and every single bucket of raw fish he handled earlier that morning. No wonder Gottlieb didn’t want to touch him. He wipes his hands on his jeans once more, in vain. “Deal,” Newt says. “Um. I have off tomorrow. I could pick you up after you’re done at the center for the day? I mean—I can’t drive, but—”

Gottlieb is steadfastly avoiding making eye contact with Newt, his cheeks pink. “Yes,” he says to a spot three inches above Newt’s left shoulder. “That would be—yes.”

“Okay,” Newt says, heart hammering, “cool.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are disastrous first dates, and slightly less disastrous second dates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote more!! and it's even more self-indulgent than it was the last time lmao (read end notes to find out JUST how much)
> 
> so originally i posted this chapter over [here](http://hermannsthumb.tumblr.com/post/175154323738/im-catsitting-this-weekend-so-i-wont-be-posting) on my tumblr, and decided i should probably post it here too. stay tuned for more exciting chapters (next up is a ROAD TRIP BABEY)

Newt’s running late and it’s entirely his fault, he spent  _way_  too much time getting ready for his date with Hermann, but he wanted to look nice, damn it, Hermann _always_ looks nice and put-together and collected, whereas every single time he’s seen Newt, Newt’s been covered in literal fish shit and God know what else. So he takes his time, does his hair up with gel, realizes it looks terrible and then has to rinse it out, and then he gets distracted by his phone, and then–basically, he misses the bus that would’ve gotten him to the harbor in time to be there before Hermann finishes up at the center and has to take a later one and ends up half-sprinting over at 5:30.

Hermann isn’t impressed. While Newt hunches over, hands on his knees, and catches his breath, Hermann just watches him. “You’re late,” he says, when Newt finally straightens up and can breathe at a normal pace. He glances over Newt’s corduroys and t-shirt. “But. You’re clean, at least.”

“Stop flattering me,” Newt says. Hermann’s in his usual professor getup, with a sweater vest Newt’s never seen before. How many does the guy have, for real? “You’re clean, too,” he jokes, and flashes what he hopes is a flirty smile. Hermann narrows his eyes. Oh, boy, off to a good start. “I’m sorry I’m late," Newt continues. "Buses and all. I would’ve texted, but–” But they never actually exchanged phone numbers. Maybe Hermann will get the hint, take the bait. Newt’s reaching for his phone already.

He doesn’t. “Where are we going for dinner?” Hermann says. “You were–somewhat vague, when you asked me.”

“Oh,” Newt says. He’d been so busy getting ready he hadn’t actually planned where they were going. “Do you, uh, have any suggestions?”

Hermann looks at him incredulously.

 

They end up at the harbor Noodles and Company with Hermann scowling at him over a bowl of pad thai, and Newt stirring his bowl of macaroni and cheese around nervously. “In my defense–” Newt blurts out. Hermann folds his arms across his chest. Newt pushes on anyway. “I was nervous about making a good first impression.”

Hermann arches an eyebrow. “You realize that you already successfully made a first impression the first time you derailed one of my talks?” he says. “A poor one, I should add. A very poor one.”

“But we’re here now, aren’t we?” Newt says hopefully.

“Hm.” Hermann pokes around at his pad thai.

“Next time,” Newt says, “next time I’ll actually make, like, reservations somewhere, and somewhere nice–”

“Next time?” Hermann says.

Newt mentally kicks himself. God, damn, he’s terrible at this, he hasn’t been on a date in years, and Hermann’s so cute, with his little round glasses and cowlick, and it’s making Newt even more flustered. He really wants this to go well so he can take Hermann somewhere that isn’t more or less in a shopping mall. Also, so he doesn’t get depressed every time he sees his Science Center membership card in his wallet. “Can we please just restart this whole thing?” he groans, dropping his fork to the table with a clatter and dragging his hand through his hair.

Hermann clears his throat. Newt looks up. “Good evening, Newton,” he says. “That shirt looks nice on you. I’m excited for our date.”

Newt grasps at the lifeline. “I’m excited too,” he says quickly. “I like your–sweater.” Then, because it’s the truth, he confesses, “I’ve wanted to ask you out for ages but didn’t know how.”

“Is that so?” Hermann says. He looks genuinely surprised. “I admit your methods were unconventional.”

“But they worked?” Newt says hopefully.

The corner of Hermann’s mouth twitches into a smile. “We’re here now, aren’t we?” he echoes.

 

Dinner is surprisingly pleasant, once the rocky beginning smooths out, and they spend most of the time talking about themselves. Hermann, he learns, is Oxford-educated and teaching astrophysics at Hopkins via an exchange program of indefinite length. He’s been here since last August. He got bored of England, apparently (though Newt can’t tell for the life of him why he picked Maryland out of the  _entire country_ ). Hermann’s surprised to find out that Newt was on the tenure track at MIT before he gave it up five years back to, also, move to Maryland, and then use his PhD in marine biology to work at the Aquarium. (“My uncle took me here once when I was a kid,” Newt explains, “and I  _loved_  it.”)

It’s cool out when they finish at the restaurant, so they go for a slow walk around the harbor as dusk settles. Newt’s hands are shoved in his pockets, but Hermann’s free hand is dangling a few inches away. He could easily take it. He really wants to take it. He doesn’t. “So you’re still pretty new around here, then,” Newt says.

“I suppose,” Hermann says. “I haven’t ventured much outside of the city. Or much inside the city either, truthfully.”

“I could show you around some more.” Play it cool, Newt thinks. Play it casual. “You know, if you want. There’s a bunch of weird shops, and bars, and movie theaters and shit in the area. Uh. If you like movies?” Hermann looks likes the type who goes to operas or sees depressing plays or shit. Newt will suck it up and take Hermann to a depressing play if that's what it takes.

Hermann rolls his eyes. “I like movies, Newton, I’m a human being.”

Just two more things they have in common, then. “Awesome,” Newt says.

Newt fully expects to take the bus back to his apartment, but Hermann surprises him by offering him a ride once they end their walk at the harbor entrance. “You sure?” he says. “I mean, I’m not super close–”

“It’s no trouble,” Hermann assures him. “As you demonstrated, the buses can be quite unreliable.”

Newt recites his address and fidgets in Hermann’s passenger seat the entire drive home. Did Hermann have a good time? Newt did. Enough for a second date, definitely. Hermann likes movies. Maybe he wants to see one with Newt this weekend or something. Is that too soon? That’s probably too soon. He might weird Hermann out. Play it cool. Next week. “Isn’t this you?” Hermann says. He’s staring expectantly at Newt–they’re outside Newt’s apartment. God, how long have they been sitting there?

“Yes.” He scrambles to unbuckle himself. “Yeah, sorry.” He slams the car door behind himself when he gets out, and panics when he realizes he forgot to say goodnight to Hermann. Hermann’s already rolling down the car window when Newt turns around. He looks mildly amused, at least. “I had a lot of fun!” Newt says quickly, leaning in. “Uh. Thanks for the ride. Sorry about, you know. Everything.”

“You can always make it up to me,” Hermann says smoothly, “next time. Goodnight, Newton.”

“I can!” Newt beams at him and takes a step back. “Goodnight!”

* * *

“Don’t you get tired of talking about black holes every single day?” he says the follow Wednesday, trailing Hermann out of the planetarium. “I mean, you give the  _same_  lecture  _every single day_.” Newt follows a routine and everything too, but at least he  _cycles_  between what creatures he’s feeding any given day. Hermann’s whole spiel is practically word-for-word each time. Even down to the little pauses between topics. Newt would lose his mind.

“You seem to have no trouble finding new faults in it every single day,” Hermann says, doing his best to outwalk Newt. He’s a fast bastard, damn him, but it’s nice knowing that their dynamic hasn’t changed too much. “Feel free to stop attending if I’m boring you.”

“Oh, Hermann, I’ll never get tired of your pretty face.”

“Mm.” Hermann manages to make a hum sound sarcastic. “How long is your lunch break, exactly? I wouldn’t want to keep you from what I can only assume is  _very_  important work.”

“Long enough. Anyway, important question,” Newt does a half-jog until he’s standing in front of Hermann, and Hermann finally slows down, thank God, “dinner and movie this week? I’ll pay.  _And_ , here’s the real bonus, I might even be on time.”

“Tempting,” Hermann says, but smiles. “What movie?”

“I’d say the new  _Jurassic World_ , but Jeff Goldblum’s only in it for, like, a minute, so who gives a shit.  _But_  the Charles is doing a revival showing for  _Creature From the Black Lagoon_ ,” Newt waggles his eyebrows, “in _3-D_. Sounds pretty cool, huh?” Hermann makes a noncommittal noise. Newt claps his hands together. “Sweet! Friday at seven! I do actually have to get back to work, though, or I might get fired or something, the warning wasn’t super clear, I was distracted, so–”

* * *

Newt’s promise to be on time holds up, and he meets Hermann in the lobby of the theater a bit  _before_  seven, even, which is a great record for him. He waves at Hermann excitedly through the door, but when he gets to him, he’s not sure what to do. High-five? No, that’s weird, people don’t do that on dates. Handshake? Is it way too early for a kiss? He decides to go in for a hug, but he takes too long and Hermann turns at the last second to look at the concession stand and it turns into an awkward shoulder-pat. Just once, Newt would like to not look like a dumbass.

“There’s a cool place across the street we can go for dinner,” Newt explains as they wait in line to buy tickets, “if you don’t mind eating late, anyway.”

They get good seats, but the 3D turns out to be a mistake almost immediately. “Shit,” Newt says, as he tries unsuccessfully to tuck his 3D glasses–the old, retro blue and red kind–behind his real glasses, and then just as unsuccessfully in front of them. “I kinda–forgot why I don’t see 3D movies.”

Hermann, somehow, has managed to balance the 3D pair perfectly with his little nerdy round librarian ones and is watching Newt struggle with a smug look on his face. “Would you like some help?” he says. “You’re making it out to be  _much_  more difficult than it should be.”

Newt scowls at him. “I  _got_  this, dude,” he says, but then the house lights dim and Newt doesn’t, actually, got this, and eventually just gives up and resigns himself to watching the movie with the weird red and blue lines going over the black and white. The plus side is that he can actually see the screen. And it’s not like he hasn’t seen it a million times before.

Besides: he has much more important things to think about, namely, how Hermann is shyly inching a hand across Newt’s armrest to tangle their fingers together, and how he doesn’t move it for the rest of the film.

 

He holds Newt’s hand on the way out of the theater, too, and when they cross the street to get to the cool little diner Newt’s recommended. He does, finally, drop it when Newt holds the door open for him, but Newt doesn’t lose his goofy smile, not even when they’re seated at a booth and given menus. “It’s certainly eclectic,” Hermann remarks as he takes the diner all in. His eyes linger over the massive pulp art posters on the wall, the neon lighting, the weird, gaudy sci-fi themed decor. “Very…colorful.”

“Wait,” Newt says, and quickly flips open his menu and shoves it at Hermann, “this is the  _real_ reason I wanted to take you here.”

Hermann glances over the page. “Are the hamburgers–”

“All named after planets!” Newt says, nearly bouncing in his seat. Hermann fixes him with an odd, soft look, that just succeeds in making Newt nervous. “I thought you’d like it.”

“I do,” he says, closing the menu delicately. “Thank you, Newton.”

“Since, you know, you’ve got a boner for black holes and space and everything–”

“ _Thank you_ , Newton,” Hermann says, a bit louder.

 

Hermann drives him home again, and Newt deliberately lingers in the car this time when they get to his apartment. He  _really_  wants invite Hermann inside. Is two dates too early for that? Newt hasn’t been on more than one date with someone in his entire life in his very limited dating experience, and–during his undergrad days–a good deal of those ended in one-night stands. He’s probably not the best authority on it. On the other hand, he’s known Hermann for almost a month, so it’s not like that’s  _totally_  rushing things. Newt’s gonna ask him.

“May I kiss you?” Hermann says suddenly, and Newt’s suggestive invite dies on his tongue. It’s–bizarrely polite, and professional, like he’s asking if Newt would like coffee or something, but it startles Newt anyway. He nods, and Hermann leans over and kisses him once, chastely. “Thank you,” he says primly, while Newt’s goofy smile returns. Newt’s not sure if Hermann means the date or the kiss or both, but frankly, he doesn’t care.

He doesn’t end up inviting Hermann inside, but he spends the rest of the night deliriously happy anyway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some fun anecdotes/notes:
> 
> -that diner exists! but tragically was shut down this past december lmfao so i'm stretching the truth a bit, but it just seems like a place theyd like
> 
> -i totally and 100% ripped the movie date from a cherished childhood memory of seeing creature from the black lagoon in 3d at that very theater, but i thought a) it was something newt would think is romantic and b) the whole creature-shape of water inspo-gdt connection (hey, that was also baltimore!). and then IMMEDIATELY after i wrote this chapter i found out a theater near dc is playing creature from the black lagoon in 3d exactly a month from now. im not saying my shitty newmann fic has reality altering abilities, but it IS very suspect


	3. (coda)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lunch dates and romance!
> 
> (or: the filler chapter that had to happen eventually)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've actually had the part i'm going to post after this done for a LITERAL two months but i realized i never bothered writing the little filler bit and i got caught up in, like, 50 other fics. also im officially marking this as a wip instead bc babey, self-indulgence? FUN
> 
> (r u sick of me yet)

If Newt didn’t know better, he would say Hermann looks _relieved_ when Newt strolls into the Science Center lobby a few minutes after Hermann’s scheduled talk was due to end. “Where on earth were you?” Hermann says, before Newt can even get out a _hello_. “I waited for you a near ten minutes before I finally—”

“You waited for me?” Newt says, oddly touched, then grins. “Am I that scientifically invigorating to you, Hermann? Can’t think straight without me?”

“It was either that,” Hermann says, “or deal with you _waltzing_ in late and disrupting it further. You haven’t answered my question.”

“I thought we could mix it up a bit,” Newt says with a shrug. “Maybe use my lunch break for actual lunch.” He tried to eat during one of Hermann’s talks once, but he brought chips—like a dumbass—and was so loud about it that Hermann took the time to pause and verbally eviscerate him in front of the entire room. He hasn’t tried since. Not because he cares that Hermann yelled at him—he just doesn’t want to give Hermann the satisfaction of being able to do it again. “I’ll buy,” he offers.

“Alright, then,” Hermann says, and when Newt holds out his arm, Hermann takes it, smiling.

They just end up going to the cafe in the massive nearby Barnes and Noble and getting a few of the overpriced paninis and coffee, but it’s nice, and Hermann seems genuinely interested when Newt brings up the talk on reef animals he’s giving soon at the aquarium (and even promises to attend a session if he can), and when it’s time for Newt to head back to work Hermann gives him a brief—but nice—hug goodbye.

Hermann’s waiting for him outside the Center the next day when Newt shows up after his talk. “My turn today, I think,” he says, and they head back to the cafe.

It becomes a tradition after that—sharing their lunch break in whatever nicely air-conditioned place is closest and swapping off on covering costs. The stifling heat fades after the fourth of July, though, giving way to nicer temperatures—almost spring-like—so Newt plans ahead one morning and packs sandwiches for the both of them. “If you don't mind eating outside, I mean,” he says; it turns out Hermann doesn’t mind, so they find a nice bench some halfway point between the Center and the Aquarium and take lunch there, watching birds steal bits of food from the sidewalk and paddleboats go by in the harbor.

Newt nudges Hermann with his elbow and nods towards one boat, shaped like a large dragon, its paint peeling. "I'll do all the work if you go on one of those with me," he says, only half-joking, because, to be honest, the dragon looks cool,  _and_ it would give him the chance to show off his spectacular lower-body strength to Hermann.

"A difficult offer to resist," Hermann says, staring at the dragon paddleboat pensively as if he's seriously considering it. "But, nevertheless."

"Yeah, fair." Newt chews around his sandwich. "We probably shouldn't go anywhere near that water anyway." Newt's pretty sure they might start rapidly mutating if they so much as breath near it, with how polluted it is. He hasn't run any official tests on the harbor fish, yet—doesn't have the right equipment—but it's a strong hypothesis that he's more than sure he has the proof to back up.

Grey clouds have started to gather overhead; Newt's noticing fewer and fewer people wandering the sidewalk around them. He groans when he feels a few raindrops and watches little dark splotches slowly appearing on the shoulders of Hermann's blazer. Just once,  _once_ , he'd like to have a date with Hermann that went off at least  _mildly_  without a hitch. He crumples the aluminum foil wrapper of his lunch viciously in his hand. "God  _damn_ it."

"It'll likely pass," Hermann says, and pats Newt's knee (which does wonders of distracting Newt from the threat of rain). "We'll be fine. What were you saying earlier about the new jellyfish?" Hermann's probably right. Summer rain never lasts long. It'll be over soon, and the sun will come back and they can get back to enjoying each other's company.

It doesn't pass. "Well," Newt says, as they huddle together underneath the awning of the candy shop and watch the downpour and people fleeing for shelter around them, "now what?"

The rain's matted down Hermann's hair, flecks Newt's glasses; Hermann takes them from him gently and dries them off on his oxford button-up, protected and still dry beneath his sweatervest. He slides them back on Newt's face. He's a lot closer than he was when before. "I can think of something," he says, and tilts Newt's face up just enough to kiss him.

They take all their lunches outside after that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ill-advised road trips, bickering, and maybe, eventually, a beach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who wants some ROAD TRIPS and BEACH VACATIONS !
> 
> originally posted this bad boy up on my tumblr [here](http://hermannsthumb.tumblr.com/post/174637471333/hermannsthumb-hermannsthumb-hermannsthumb) (again, as i said, about two months ago, so ive edited it since then)
> 
> (this definitely wasn't drawn from my own experience of being the one asshole in the friend group who can't drive and makes up for it by playing navigator)

“Do you have any days off coming up?” Newt asks Hermann one afternoon over lunch.

Hermann eyes him suspiciously. “Why?” he says, once he swallows the bit of sandwich in his mouth. “What are you planning?”

“I just have a  _bunch_  of vacation days saved up,” Newt says. He’s, like, never used them in his life. He loves his job too much. And not to jump the gun or anything a month and a half into a relationship, but he’s starting to realize he might…well, love would  _really_  be jumping the gun, but he definitely  _likes_  Hermann just a little bit more. Enough to want to lavish him with said saved-up vacation days. “I was thinking that, maybe, we could, you know, go somewhere cool. Together. For vacation.”

“Together?” Hermann repeats. He flushes. “That would be–I’d like that.”

“Cool,” Newt says. “Cool, cool.” He picks at some crust from his sandwich. “I was thinking the beach,” he continues. “Ocean City’s not too far. It’d be a fun road trip, and we could make a long weekend out of it.” Hermann would, quite frankly, hate Ocean City, but the idea of being able to see what Hermann hides under all those layers (isn’t he  _hot_? It’s July) has been haunting Newt since he thought it up last week, and it’s the beach that’s closest.

He doesn’t tell Hermann that he knows for a fact Hermann has days off coming up because he’s on a first name basis with the desk assistant at the Science Center now and he just straight-up asked her. Or that he’s already looked into Airbnbs and hotels. Or that he’s already packed a bag. Newt doesn’t half-ass anything, and especially not romance. “A long weekend sounds nice,” Hermann says, and smiles at Newt.

* * *

The road trip is not fun.

“How the hell did you manage to get us this lost?” Hermann hisses.

It was only supposed to be a three hour drive, and they left especially early to avoid any and all traffic, and Newt–to make up for not being able to share the driving–took on the roles of funding their coffee (for Hermann, Newt just gets Slushies, one dollar at Royal Farms, baby) stops and navigating. He’s great at the coffee part, but it turns out he’s totally shit at navigating. They’ve been driving in circles around farmland for thirty minutes. Newt’s pretty sure they’ve passed the same cow three times–it’s started staring at Hermann’s car like it recognizes them. “Apple Maps is  _confusing_!” Newt exclaims. “It keeps telling me to turn too late and shit and I keep losing signal. I’m really trying here, dude.”

Hermann quickly pulls off on the side of the road and stops the car. He turns in his seat and levels Newt with a truly impressive glare. Newt readies himself for what will, no doubt, be an equally impressive dumping-and-subsequent-”get out of my car”ing. Hermann doesn’t dump him, though. “You are a  _scientist_ ,” is what he says, “you have  _several_  PhDs. How do you not use Google Maps?”

Newt waves his shitty iPhone 5s around madly. It’s ancient, for a phone anyway, a good four years old, and the screen is shattered from when he tripped up the stairs in his apartment complex a year ago. He also refuses to get rid of it until it literally dies on him. It’s the principle of the thing. Fuck you, capitalism, and especially fuck you Apple and your terrible products that Newt buys anyway. “I don’t have a whole lot of storage on this thing, okay!” he says. “I have to delete, like, five songs if I just want to take a picture. I can’t just fuck around and download apps whenever I feel like it.”

Hermann digs around in the pocket of his slacks–because, yes, Hermann wore his usual slacks and sweater on their beach road trip–and whips out his phone. It’s a lot nicer than Newt’s. Newt stares. “How do you afford that thing, man?”

“I have tenure,” Hermann says smugly, which is bullshit, because Newt was a professor too at one point, he _knows_ how much the average salary is. He nudges Newt’s hand with his phone. “Now please just use this to navigate so we can get out of–wherever we are.”

They make it back on track eventually, but getting lost for so long means the edge they gained by leaving so early in the morning to avoid vacation traffic is  _also_  lost, which is the short and tragic story behind why they’re currently at a standstill on the Bay Bridge with the sun blinding them through the windshield.

“I hate you,” Hermann says firmly, fingers clenched tightly around the steering wheel.

Newt, meanwhile, takes one look out the window at the churning bay a  _lot_  of feet below and clenches his eyes shut just as tight. “Shit,” he says, “I forgot how  _high_  this thing is.” In all the times in the past he’s gone over the bridge–usually with other people from the aquarium as some sort of marine life research project–it’s been clear of traffic and they sail along in no time. Just sitting here, though, Newt is suddenly painfully aware of just how long a drop it is to the water below.

“Newton,” Hermann warns, “if you vomit anywhere in my car I will not be held responsible for what I may do.”

“It’s cool, it’s cool, I’m good,” Newt says quickly, wanting to avoid invoking the wrath of Hermann at all costs. He taps his fingers wildly on his armrest. It’ll be over soon, they’ll be off the bridge, it’s a sturdy bridge, people don’t just go flipping over the side of it. Oh, God, do they? Could they survive that if they did? “Hermann,” Newt says, “like, hypothetically, if we drove off the side–”

“ _Newton_ ,” Hermann groans, and clicks on the radio and turns it up very loudly. It’s Queen, which is a nice surprise. If Hermann’s going to murder both their eardrums because he can’t stand to hear Newt talk, at least they’ll be going deaf with a bang. Newt doesn’t back down, though.

“Hypothetically,” Newt says a little louder, “if you just, like, fucking  _gunned_  it over the side, right now, could we survive it?”

Hermann closes his eyes. “Well,” he sighs, as if he can’t believe he’s indulging Newt like this, “I suppose it really depends on how deep the water is. Don’t forget, of course, even if we survived the initial fall we’d have to get  _out_  of the car in time once we hit the water.”

“Do you think I’d survive if I jumped off the side?” Newt muses aloud. “I mean, what if I just executed an insanely sweet dive, and–”

Hermann turns the radio up more. “Joke’s on you,” Newt says, even louder, “I  _love_  Bohemian Rhapsody.” And then he starts singing along obnoxiously, air guitar and all, which makes Hermann shut the radio off entirely.

They pass ten minutes in silence. They do, thankfully, move forward a bit. With no exciting new scenery to preoccupy his thoughts, no breeze coming through the windows anymore, and the sun beating down on them, Newt realizes how  _stiflingly_  hot the car is. He casts a glance over at Hermann; if  _Newt’s_  sweating uncomfortably in tiny cutoff shorts and  _Star Trek_ crop top, Hermann has got to be outright dying in his approximate three layers. Newt will be doing Hermann a favor if he turns the A/C on, really.

He reaches out to the air controls, and Hermann swats his hand away so fast it’s almost like he’d been expecting it. “No,” Hermann says simply.

“But I’m  _hot_ ,” Newt whines.

“Really?” Hermann’s annoying smugness has returned. There is not, Newt realizes, a single bead of sweat on his forehead. “Because I’m  _quite_  comfortable.”

The bastard’s got to be a goddamn alien.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more 2 come. honestly? this is fun
> 
> also [this](http://images.shirts.com/products/27768/13-14/star-trek-enterprise-rainbow-trail-t-shirt.jpg) is newt's crop top he actually modified it himself to be a crop top. gay rights!

**Author's Note:**

> a FANTASTIC person [drew art of this](https://clyde-n-slyde.tumblr.com/post/174388749819/asfkdxjhs-all-i-do-is-sketch-out-fanfic-scenes-im) too and it's ADORABLE please look
> 
> as always: find me on tumblr at hermannsthumb and on twitter at hermanngaylieb, where i sometimes post fic too


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